


Rose: Deal with a Growing Concern

by 1nsomnizac



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Height Differences, Lack of Communication, Mixed Species Relationship Issues, People From The Game Over Timeline Are Brought Back, Post-Sburb/Sgrub, Relationship Problems, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-08 00:27:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6831535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1nsomnizac/pseuds/1nsomnizac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the twelve years since the game ended, you have not gained an inch on your respectable five feet eight inches. </p>
<p>Your wife has.</p>
<p>(Based on the headcanon that adult trolls get progressively larger the higher up the hemospectrum they are)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rose: Deal with a Growing Concern

==> Rose: Deal with a Growing Concern.

You are quite sure you do not know what you mean. What concern? You are a respected member of the community, and you live in a nice, big house with your beloved wife of eleven years. You haven’t even touched a drink in years, and you are on good terms with all of your surviving family and alternate versions thereof. There couldn’t possibly be anything wrong.

==> Stop Being In Denial.

You are not in denial, you are in your house. A big, beautiful house as you have just said. There are lovely little drawing rooms and a nice library filled with all the books for which you still have the captcha codes (a distressingly small portion of Earthly literature, to be sure, but if  _ The Sun Also Rises _ was lost and  _ Twilight _ survived, you cannot say you are all that torn up about it). There is a large dining room by the kitchen for entertaining friends, and a smaller breakfast nook (cue a blush from Kanaya) for private meals. There is a room where you have space to dance, and Kanaya has a gallery where she displays her favorite designs. You have not been in there recently, but it is where Kanaya meets with her regular customers to discuss custom designs. There is also a music room, where you have sporadically tried to learn how to play the violin again.

==> Enter Gallery.

You don’t really feel like doing that. As you were saying, there is also a nice little garden which Jade helped you two set up, right outside the breakfast nook window. Once or twice you’ve seen little carapacian children try to sneak in and nab a pumpkin. Although Jade’s garden has the biggest and juiciest produce, the little ones know better than to steal from the witch’s garden. Of course, once they saw Kanaya towering over them they would run away, leaving you to share a chuckle with your wife about the whole thing.

==> Find Beloved Wife.

You decide you would like to spend some time with Kanaya. You leave the nook (pfft) and wander through the dining room to the Foyer. Stairs lead up to the second floor, where you can find the Bedroom, the Observatory, the Music Room, and the Guest Bedroom. The Front Door is to your left. The door to the hallway is to your right. Opposite you is the door to Kanaya’s Gallery.

==> Check Gallery.

But she might be upstairs or in one of the other downstairs rooms. You should really check those first.

==> Ponder Reasons Why You Are Avoiding The Gallery.

You fail to ponder that. You go check the dance room and the library from the doors in the hallway. You return to the foyer.

You take a step up the stairs and pause. Kanaya doesn’t really spend time in the music room or observatory unless you are there, since she doesn’t know how to operate the instruments in either room. She isn’t one to spend an afternoon in bed, either. She’s probably working in her gallery.

==> Enter Gallery.

You knock on the door. There’s no response, but that doesn’t mean that she isn’t there. Kanaya often doesn’t hear things when she’s working. You take a deep breath, and, not really understanding your trepidation, turn the knob and step inside.

The door is on one end of a long hall, its walls a green tint, its floor and ceiling bright varnished wood. Along one wall is a row of wide windows with the curtains drawn back. Along the other is a row of alcoves, where mannequins that wear Kanaya’s designs stand proudly.

==> Inspect Mannequins.

The outfits that you and Kanaya wore on your first post-victory date stand in the first alcove. They are casual outfits, made of wooltree fabric and cotton, echoing the styles you wore before you went on your great adventure. You remember that date well, when you stood eye to eye and told yourselves that the horror was over. That you had survived.

The mannequins in this alcove are identical in height.  At the time, you did not think about the fact that you were bodies seemed to match. It seemed natural. It has been twelve years since then. You’ve grown into a capable adult, but you have only grown figuratively. Since the game ended, you have not gained an inch on your respectable five feet eight inches. 

Your wife has.

Your wedding dresses stand in the third alcove. They are as beautiful as they were on your wedding day, and as you look at the designs that you and Kanaya worked on together, you remember how proud you were, how nervous, how happy, how beloved as you looked up into your wife’s eyes. Your dress echoes a traditional white bridal gown, augmented by layers of purple, and accents and borders of black, and a veil that mimicked the hood of your godtier ensemble. Kanaya’s dress is truly inspired, a dress which echoes both the tuxedo and the garb of a jade grubwife, while retaining an identity all its own. It is far too small for Kanaya now; its mannequin stands six feet two inches tall.

The next dress you recognize as her own is worn by a mannequin just over six and a half feet tall. It is the one she wore to her ninth sweep party, a black evening gown that shimmers like the stars, the radiating crescents of the space icon embroidered with silver beads. 

You remember when she made her entrance, beaming and glittering, and it was like staring at a goddess, like becoming infatuated with her all over again. That had been a beautiful night, a passionate night. You feel a flicker of sadness at the memory, and all of a sudden melancholy threatens to submerge you. With effort, you force yourself to look on.

The next pair of clothes were not for trolls or humans at all, but for carapacians. One mannequin wore a soft blue ankle length dress and a darker blue hijab, you think you might have seen Ms. Paint wear something like it. Beside the dress was a grey tunic decorated with stylish vertical creases made to evoke the makeshift robe of a wandering vagrant; it was a style that the Mayor wore first, and quickly became  _ de rigueur _ for carapacian politicians. Perhaps you should give the old mayor a visit. You should ask your Dave and your Karkat to come too; they were always very fond of him, even if he isn’t the Mayor from your timeline. 

The next alcove holds a pair of very mismatched mannequins wearing matching outfits. Each wears a brown overcoat that has alternating green and orange borders on the collar and pockets; each wears a T-shirt with a hybrid heart/time symbol on its front and green and orange amulets; both wear a plain brown skirt. They belong to your sprite Dave and victory Nepeta, who shared a sprite during the Victory. They have taken to sharing a symbol and an apartment. Dave’s mannequin is five foot nine, while Nepeta’s is nearly seven foot six and built like a brick house. You do not know what to think about the dubious rumors that they are matesprits. Most of the daves show very little interest in women, and you don’t know if any would break the pattern with such an imposing woman. Then again, your Dave dated Terezi on the meteor for a while, and look at how she turned out.

“Rose?” asks a familiar voice. You turn. Your wife stands in the far doorway, a look of surprise on her face. You smile at her. 

“I was just walking down memory lane,” you say.

“I Do That Sometimes As Well,” she says, “There Are A Lot Of Pleasant Memories Here.”

She over to you and hugs you close. She is eight feet tall now, and when you both are standing, your head rests just below her breasts, and you can feel your own chest on her abdomen. You feel safe in her arms, and though her skin is colder than yours, there is warmth there too.

“A lot has changed for us,” you say, “that scares me.”

“Do You Want To Tell Me About It?” she asks.

“I suppose I should, but… it’s hard. It is hard to think about, hard to talk about.”

“Please Try Your Best,” Kanaya says, “I Am Here For You.”

You linger in her embrace without speaking, but she lets you take your time. She knows that you know what you are doing.

“We haven’t been intimate in a while,” you say slowly, “We cuddle, and we kiss, but we haven’t-- we haven’t had sex. In a long time.”

Kanaya is silent. You keep going. “Do you remember my last birthday? You took me out for a picnic under the stars, and you held me close, like this. I wanted you. I wanted you really bad. But you never touched me. You never reciprocated.”

Kanaya mumbles, “Rose…”

You say, “I keep getting the thought that you do not want me anymore, that I am not attractive to you anymore. Am I too small? Am I too-- too human?”

“Oh, Rose,” Kanaya says, and you can hear her sorrow in the words. “My Rose. I’m Sorry. I Have Been Foolish. I Still Desire You. I Want You, Rose.”

“Then why?”

“I Didn’t Want To Hurt You. I Was Afraid, Because I Have Become So Much Bigger Than You, That I Would Hurt You. That You Would Get Injured Because Of Me. And I Was So Scared Of That Happening, That I Let You Think That You Did Not Want You. I’m Sorry.”

You hug Kanaya more tightly. “I chose to marry you because I love you, not because I thought you couldn’t hurt me. Would it have been so hard to tell me why?”

“No, I Guess Not,” says Kanaya, “But You Waited For Months To Tell Me That I Hurt You. So Maybe Both Of Us Have Trouble Talking About Our Feelings.”

“Yeah,” you say. “I know that you meant well, but you still tried to protect me by keeping me in the dark. Can you-- can you promise me that you won’t do that again? That you will not try to save me without me?”

Kanaya strokes your hair with one long, gentle finger. You look up into her eyes. “I Will Never Stop Wanting To Protect You, Rose,” she says, “But I Will Never Again Try To Do So Silently. I Promise.”

“Then get down here and kiss me,” you say, “you’ve kept me waiting long enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did you know that the German word for cotton translates to "tree wool"? I found that interesting.  
> I have been wanting to write this fic for a while, but a few days ago I saw this picture on tumblr that really lit a fire under my butt to make it. I can't find the pic in question, but if I do I will link it here.  
> Edit: I found the picture! it is by tumblr user lokh: http://lokh.tumblr.com/post/143990177280/im-like-5-years-old-ok


End file.
